AMERICA 

AND  OTHER 
POEMS 


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AMERICA 

AND    OTHER    POEMS 


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AMERICA 

AND     OTHER     POEMS 


BY 


W.  J.   DAWSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "XECE  VISION  OF  SOULS,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK— JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 
LONDON— JOHN  LANE— THE  BODLEY  HEAD 
TORONTO  — BELL  &   COCKBURN  —  MCMXIV 


Copyright,  igi4,  by 
JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


TO 
CONINGSBY   DAWSON 

THE    FATHER    TO   THE   SON 

We  each  have  found  the  lost  Hesperides, 
And  homeward  brought  bright  fruitage; 
thine 
Touched  with  the  magic  bloom  of  morning 
seas, 
With  the  cool  light  of  evening — mine. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


America n 

Extreme  Unction 21 


The  Kiss 


31 


The  Dream  of  Kings 39 

From  the  House  of  Bondage 42 

Peace 48 

The  Last  Ride  of  the  Sheik  Abdullah  ...  51 

Salome 55 

Blake's  Homecoming 67 

Cadiz  Bay 72 

The  First-Born 76 

Deliverance 78 

At  a  Grecian  Altar 80 

A  Child  in  Heaven 91 

London 96 

Departure 98 

Emmaus lOI 

In  No  Man's  Land 104 

The  River  of  Rest iii 

The  Ending  of  All  Days 113 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

At  Her  Grave ii6 

The  Italian  in  America ii8 

Spring  Tokens 121 

The  Whispering  Wood 124 

The  People's  Cause 126 

A  Prayer 130 

The  Builder 132 

Heaven 134 

The  Child  Asleep 136 

Nobody  Knows 139 

The  Laughing  Maid 141 

She  Passed  at  Dawn 144 

The  Wise  Man's  Wish 146 

The  Songs  of  Youth 148 

Earth-Love 150 


AMERICA 

AND    OTHER    POEMS 


AMERICA 


Where  the  many-windowed  towers  dare  the 

sky 
And  the  wizard  bridges  span  the  busy  sea, 
Where  the  many-mated  shuttles  of  the  ships 
Weave  the  Past  into  the  web  of  Things  to  Be; 

Where  the  high-suspended  cars 

Braid  the  night  with  ropes  of  stars, 
And  the  earth  is  grooved  with  arteries  of  fire; 
There  the  City  breathes  its  passion  and  desire, 

And  I  see  it  stand  supreme, 

Fantastic  as  a  dream. 
Will  it  falter?    Will  it  fail?    Will  it  endure? 

Nay:    it  standeth  very  sure. 


II 


12  AMERICA 

II 

Thousand-domed   the    cities    line   the   water- 
ways, 
Thousand-leagued  the  coast-wise    sands    and 

forests  spread, 
And  city  calls  to  city  through  the  dawns, 
"Behold  the  wastes  we  have  inherited! 
In  the  ancient  dwelling-place 
Of  a  long-forgotten  race, 
We  deck  ourselves  with  marble  and  with  gold, 
We  plant  our  feet  of  steel,  our  flag  of  stars 
unfold. 
And  uplift  our  strident  song 
Of  Triumph  to  the  Strong!" 
Will  they  falter?     Will  they  fail?     Will  they 
endure  ? 
Nay:   all  standeth  very  sure. 


AMERICA  13 

III 

Where  the  lonely  huntsman  fronts  the  north- 
ern lights, 
Where  the  mountains  hang  like  clouds  against 

the  sky, 
Where  the  yellow  flame  of  wheatfields,  mile 

on  mile, 
Quivers  as  the  steel-linked  cars  go  rushing  by ': 
Where  the  palm- fringed  smooth  lagoon 
Sucks  down  the  Southern  moon. 
Where  the  white-walled  houses  flash  like  sails 

at  sea 
Upon  the  gray-green  prairie's  vacancy, 
Still  I  hear  the  song 
Of  Triumph  to  the   Strong. 
Will  it  falter?    Will  it  cease?    Will  it  endure? 
Nay:    its  note  is  very  sure. 


14  AMERICA 

IV 

From  the  Volga  and  the  Tiber  and  the  Seas, 
From  the  lands  of  long  misrule  thy  children 

come, 
And  thou  standest  like  a  Shepherd  by  the  fold 
And  numberest  thy  sheep  as  they  draw  home. 

From  the  ways  of  dearth  and  toil. 

From  the  hard  penurious  soil, 
Like  school-freed  children  glad  they  seek  thy 

knees, 
And  find  wise  liberty  in  thy  decrees. 

No  more  disconsolate. 

They  grasp  a  larger  fate; 
Shall  they  falter?     Shall  they  find  thy  free- 
dom sure? 

Yea :    in  truth  they  shall  endure. 


AMERICA  15 

V 

From  the  sunset-lands  they  come,  and  from 

the  East, 
From  the  Tagus,  and  the  Danube,   and  the 

Rhine, 
From  the  waters  ploughed  by  Norsemen  in 

their  pride. 
From  the  fiord  and  the  factory,  and  the  mine : 
Behold  a  miracle ! 
Within  thy  crucible 
The  cosmic  flame  that  challenges  the  sun 
Transfuses  million-varied  lives  to  one! 
O  nation,  young  and  gay, 
Nation  born  v^ithin  a  day. 
Shall  it  falter!     Shall  it  cease?     Shall  it  en- 
dure? 
Yea :   it  standeth  very  sure. 


l6  AMERICA 

VI 

Where  the  workshop  flings  its  plumes  athwart 

the  sky, 
Where  the  labouring  engines  groan  as  if  in 

pain, 
Where  the  low  tree-cradled  cottage  dots  the 

hill, 
Where  the  lonely  ranchman  rides  along  the 
plain ; 
Where  the  Mississippi  flows, 
Where  Shasta  lifts  her  snows, 
Day  by  day  thy  far-flung  children  praise  thy 

name, 
Forgetful  they  of  days  of  ancient  shame, 
Of  Emperors  and  Czars, 
Beneath  thy  flag  of  stars. 


AMERICA  17 

Shall  they  falter?     Shall  they  cease?     Shall 
they  endure? 
Yea:   their  faith  is  very  sure. 

VII 

For  a  bitter  night  and  day  they  shall  be  tried, 
They   shall   moan  within   the   cruel   hand   of 

greed ; 
But  ever  when  the  wrong   has   wrought   its 

worst 
Shall    arise    Redeemers    answering    to    their 

need. 
From  some  backwood  Bethlehem 
Their  Christ  shall  come  to  them; 
Thro'  the  roaring  hells  of  Mammon,  by  the 

path 


l8  AMERICA 

Of  mocking  Calvaries,  he  shall  pass  on  in  his 
wrath. 
Till  his  hands  have  hewn  the  way 
To  the  daylight  and  the  Day. 
Shall  he   falter  in  the  strife?     Shall   he  en- 
dure? 
Nay:   his  step  is  very  sure. 

VIII 

Where  the   school-house   banner   flaunts   the 

morning  breeze, 
Where  the  rough  farm  student  strides  amid 

the  wheat, 
Where  the  voice  of  knowledge  fills  a  thousand 

halls, 
Where   the  athletes   in   their  mimic  warfare 

meet; 


AMERICA  19 

Where  the  master  grasps  the  brand 

Of  lightning  in  his  hand, 
And  the  hidden  Powers  of  Air  to  service  bent 
Proclaim  the  issue  of  the  long  experiment, 

I  behold  the  future  race 

Arise  in  strength  and  grace; 
Shall  they  falter?    Shall  they  fail?    Shall  they 
endure  ? 

Lo,  the  onward  march  is  sure. 

IX 

With  the  tempered  pride  of  chastened  confi- 
dence, 

Level-browed  and  eager-eyed  the  race  shall  be, 

And  their  lips  shall  learn  the  frugal  speech  of 
power. 

And  the  braggart  boast  shall  perish  utterly. 


20  AMERICA 

False  gods  of  gold  and  lust 

Shall  crumble  into  dust; 
Till,  last  of  all,  the  nation's  King  shall  come, 
And  on  each  high-piled  capitol  and  dome. 

Wherein  Right  hath  suffered  loss, 

Not  the  Eagle,  but  the  Cross 
Shall  greet  obedient  peoples  and  endure^ — ' 

Yea:    this  end  is  very  sure. 


EXTREME    UNCTION 
(Avignon) 

PART  I 

So  ends  the  long  confession;  so 

Begins  the  last  most  mystic  rite. 
God's  lily  of  Dawn  begins  to  grow 

Out  of  the  stagnant  pools  of  Night. 
The  poplars  shiver  underneath 

The  pallid  stars ;  the  hooded  hills 
Stand  still,  like  monks,  and  hold  their  breath 

To  see  the  travail  God  fulfils. 

21 


22  EXTREME   UNCTION 

Would  any  think  to  see  her  thus, 

Her  face  made  bright  with  God's  live  flame, 
She  hid  so  many  sins  from  us. 

Or  trod  such  secret  ways  of  shame? 
She  lies,  palm  folded  meek  on  palm. 

She  smiles  as  they  who  visions  see; 
No  dying  saint  drank  deeper  calm, 

Nor  God's  own  Mother  verily. 

So  have  I  seen  a  flower  shoot 

Up  golden-hearted,   angel-wise, 
Nor  shall  one  guess  what  at  the  root 

Of  hidden  putrefaction  lies: 
Nor  shall  one  ask,  nor  shall  one  know 

Thro'  what  dim  depths  its  fibres  range; 
Brother,  God  willed  it  even  so, 

And  God's  world — it  is  very  strange! 


EXTREME    UNCTION  23 

First  with  God's  holy  oil  I  touch 

The  eyelids  dropped  above  the  eyes 
Which  loved  the  world's  pomps  overmuch, 

Whose  vision  night  and  day  likewise 
Was  wholly  of  love's  hid  delight, 

Nor  knew  the  wonder  of  God's  grace; 
May  peace  fall  on  them,  nor  affright 

Be  theirs  when  they  behold  God's  face. 

Within  them  may  each  picture  fade 

Of  old  delights,  despairs,   desires, 
As  fade  the  faces  fancy  made 

In  childhood's  long-extinguished  fires. 
My  daughter,  lift  thine  eyes  and  see 

The  Holy  Rood,  the  Thorn-crowned  Man, 
— Forgotten  long, — Who  died  for  thee, 

And  loved  thee  since  the  world  began. 


24  EXTREME   UNCTION 

Likewise  I  shrive  each  gate  of  sense, 

Each  delicate  nostril,  tender  ear; 
Gone  are  thy  lovers,  gone.  Ah  whence, 

Sighs  flower-sweet,  vows  heaven-dear? 
Gone  is  thy  dream,  and  unfulfilled ! 

Gone  those  for  whom  thy  soul  did  wait! 
O  sense  that  sinned,  O  sense  that  thrilled, 

Behold  thy  house  left  desolate! 

Is  it  not  written,  even  thus 

Daughters  of  music  they  shall  cease? 
Watchers  at  windows,  who  for  us 

Made  signs  of  trouble  or  of  peace. 
These,  when  is  broke  the  golden  bowl 

Shall  vanish  in  the  evening  gleam; 
O  dream  of  Life,  O  Living  Soul, 

Thyself  a  Dream  within  a  Dream! 


EXTREME   UNCTION  ^5 

Next  on  thy  lips  my  sign  I  make, 

Full  crimson  lips  they  always  were 
That  smiled  a  little  when  they  spake, 

(Dear  God,  how  sweet  the  face  of  her!) 
Porches  of  laughter,  doors  of  pain 

Wherefrom  Love  turns  in  fear  and  flies, 
Crying,  "The  clouds  pursue  the  rain, 

What  pleasure  have  I  now  in  these?" 

Doors  that  are  shut  forevermore. 

For  mourners  go  about  the  street; 
Red  lips  that  blossomed  kisses  bore 

In  far-off  days  when  Love  was  sweet; 
Red  flowers  that  fall  at  last  to  dust, 

Trodden  beneath  the  feet  of  men, 
Lo,  He  is  near,  Who  blessed  the  trust 

And  took  the  kiss  of  Magdalen! 


26  EXTREME   UNCTION 

Open  thy  hands,  I  touch  these  too 

Which  took  so  fast  a  hold  on  sin, 
All  soft-felt  touches  loved,  and  knew 

How  the  blood  leapt  and  burned  therein; 
Frail  hands  that  pluck  the  counterpane, 

That  idly  flutter  to  and  fro, 
Lo,  Christ  stoops  low — ye  may  attain 

To  touch  His  garment  ere  He  go! 

Next  on  each  foot  so  swift  to  run 

In  ways  where  heavy  odours  weighed 
Upon  the  soul,  and  God's  own  sun 

Pierced  faintly  thro'  the  poisonous  shade; 
He,  whose  tired  feet  were  washed  with  tears. 

Now  washes  thine  with  oils  of  grace. 
That  thine  may  climb  beyond  the  spheres 

And  find  the  path  that  finds  His  face. 


EXTREME   UNCTION  27 

And  last  upon  thy  heart,  which  is 

As  a  tense  string,  on  which  Death  makes 
Such  music  of  wild  woe  and  bliss 

It  vibrates,  and  vibrating  breaks! 
Upon  thy  heart,  which  knew  desire, 

Its  little  gain,  its  bitter  loss, 
Its  cruel  insatiable  fire, 

I  lay  for  sign  of  peace  His  Cross. 

So  all  is  done.    My  daughter,  now 

Look  up  and  see  thy  place  prepared. 
See  how  the  streets  of  heaven  glow. 

The  fruit  of  Life  with  angels  shared! 
Apostles,  martyrs,  saints  of  grace, 

Each  bends  toward  you  a  shining  head; 
Be  of  good  cheer! — Ah,  Christ!  her  face 

Grows  gray,  her  hands  fall — she  is  dead ! 


28  EXTREME   UNCTION 

PART    II 

The  cold  rain  falls  upon  her  grave, 

The  dark  night  creeps  along  the  eave, 
Outside  she  lies  where  grasses  wave 

And  boughs  make  moan,  and  tired  winds 
grieve. 
Outside  beneath  the  river-mist, 

In  that  grim  bed  of  doleful  rest. 
The  mouth  of  rose  I  never  kiss't, 

The  slender  hands  I  never  press't. 

Peace,  peace,  O  heart  that  loved  her  too, 

O  heart  that  broke  discerning  how 
Too  near,  too  far,  too  dear  she  grew 

Long  years  ago — O  wake  not  thou! 
Peace,  peace,  O  heart!    Is  it  not  writ 

That  not  a  sparrow  falls,  but  He 
Who  gave  it  wings  remembers  it? 

Pity  of  God,  remember  me  1 


EXTREME    UNCTION  29 

The  things  that  were,  the  things  that  are 

I  weigh  and  ponder,  knowing  well 
My  sin  than  hers  was  greater  far 

For  love  in  me  was  mutable. 
God  pardon  me  this  sweet  excess 

Of  late-wise  folly  that  I  feel 
Sin  cannot  make  me  love  her  less, 

Nor  virtue  bid  me  lowlier  kneel. 

I  love,  but  not  the  love  that  used 

Within  this  heart  of  flesh  to  beat 
Can  stir  me  now;  the  cord  is  loosed, 

Sunk  is  the  fire  and  spent  the  heat. 
And  thou  art  as  the  angels,  they 

Who  marry  not — Christ  sayeth  so — 
O  dear  dead  woman  teach  me  the  way 

Of  this  new  love  that  dead  folks  know! 


30  EXTREME    UNCTION 

Draw  near,   when  day  begins  to  chase 

Night  weeping  from  the  darkened  eave; 
Draw  near,  thou  vision  of  a  Face, 

With  eyes  that  smile  and  cannot  grieve. 
Draw  near,  in  faint-spun  amethyst 

Of  Dawn,  half-hidden,  half -con  fess't, 
O  mouth  of  rose  I  never  kiss't, 

O  slender  hands  I  never  press't! 

The  half-light  grows  upon  the  hill, 

Beneath  the  hill  the  waters  glide; 
The  air  is  very  sweet  and  still. 

And  all  the  Doors  of  God  stand  wide. 
Steal  forth  and  meet  me,  if  you  may; 

Stoop  low,  O  mouth  of  rose,  stoop  low; 
O  dear,  dead  Woman,  teach  me  the  way 

Of  this  new  love  that  dead  folk  know. 


THE  KISS 

(1794) 

The  place  is  Paris ;  the  scene,  the  time, 
When  the  Terror  spawned  her  bloody  brood. 

On  a  certain  morning,  gray  with  rime, 
A  woman  before  her  judges  stood; 

Proud  and  straight,  with  golden  hair 

Like  a  crown  of  glory,  she  stood  there. 

Friend  was  she  of  a  martyred  queen; 

Robespierre  glared  on  her  and  said, 
"Here's  dainty  food  for  the  guillotine, 

Gold  looks  best  when  it's  mixed  with  red. 

Gold-red  blood,  and  blood-gold  hair, 

God,  but  He  made  this  woman  fair! 

31 


32  THE    KISS 

"A  shade  too  pale  in  the  lip  maybe, 

And  the  scornful  mouth  of  the  aristocrat! 

God's  work's  good,  but  you  shall  see 
Robespierre  can  improve  on  that! 

Wait  till  you  watch  my  flesh-tints  grow — > 

Roses  of  blood  on  cheek  and  brow!" 

But  just  as  the  tumbril  at  the  door 
Rattled  and  stopt,  out  flasht  a  sword; 

A  man's  voice  clamoured  above  the  roar 
Of  Robespierre's  court,  and  craved  a  word ; 

And  Robespierre,  scenting  some  novel  freak 

In  the  daily  drama,  bade  him  speak. 

The  court  grew  still  as  a  windless  sea; 
With  voice  a-tremble  the  man  commenced ; 


THE    KISS  33 

"Citizen-friends,  you  all  know  me. 

Wounds  I  have  borne  unrecompensed, 
Something  have  suffered  in  my  task, 
Nothing  have  asked,  but  now  I  ask. 

"A  soldier-citizen,  here  stand  I 

Claiming  this  woman's  life — be  just! 

This  my  price  for  a  pain  gone  by, 
Wound  of  bullet  and  bayonet-thrust; 

Also,  to  make  the  pact  complete, 

My  life  for  hers — 'tis  right  and  meet. 

"  *Love,'  you  will  say,  'France  knows  it  not, 
Duty,  not  love,  for  hours  like  this!' 

'Tis  well,  for  she  loves  me  not  a  jot, 
Owes  me  no  love,  hath  given  no  kiss ; 


34  THE    KISS 

These  many  years  I  love,  but  she 
Knows  not  love,  and  loves  not  me. 

"Sirs,  this  woman  has  been  to  me 

France  herself  incarnated! 
Citizens,  look,  and  you  shall  see 

France  herself  in  that  golden  head, 
France  in  that  curling  lip,  and  France 
In  the  fire  and  charm  of  that  proud  glance. 

"Loved  in  triumph,  adored  in  shame, 
Poet,  prophetess,  priestess  Thou, 

Guarding  the  deathless  altar-flame, 

Wearing  the  thorn-crown  on  thy  brow, 

Mocking  the  mockers  who  made  thy  pain. 

Dying,  ever  to  rise  again: 


THE    KISS  35 

"France,  with  the  deep  dream-weighted  eye^, 
France,  with  the  calm  brows  fronting  fate. 

Beautiful,  passionate,   foolish,  wise. 
Here  thou  standest  incarnate, 

Thou  and  this  woman  one, — and  I 

Dying  for  her  who  must  not  die!" 

The  man's  voice  ceased,  and  a  hum  went  round 
The  crowded  court.     Then  Robespierre 

Lifted  his  cruel  eyes  from  the  ground 
And  glanced  round  furtively,  half-aware 

And  half-resolved  how  the  tide  would  flow; 

Then  took  it,  and  said,  "She's  free — may  go !" 

Until  that  moment  the  woman  had  stood 
Immobile,  scornful,  marble-cold. 


36  THE    KISS 

Now,  with  a  hot,  quick  rush  of  blood 

Life  came  back  and  the  current  rolled 
Delicious  thro'  every  vein;  she  seemed 
The  rose-red  goddess  poets  have  dreamed. 

Glowed  and  melted  her  countenance, 
Her  eyes  fulfilled  with  happy  tears; 

Slowly  she  spake,  as  in  a  trance, 

''He  saith  he  hath  loved  me  many  years, 

No  kiss  he  hath  ever  won,  he  saith, 

Yet  he  hath  loved  me  unto  death !" 

Sideways  she  bent,  moved  forth  a  pace. 
Then,  sudden  she  cross't  the  clamorous  room, 

Her  eyes  leapt  out  in  one  long  embrace 
On  his,  and  brought  him  love  and  doom, 


THE    KISS  37 

She  stooped  her  glorious  golden  head 
And  kissed  the  man — and  he  fell  dead. 

Which  would  you  choose  if  you  might  choose, 
The  fate  of  woman  or  the  man? 

Give  me  the  man's  life,  tho'  it  lose 
Joy  in  the  moment  it  began; 

Give  me  the  death  that  is  quick  and  sweet 

In  the  hour  when  life  appears  complete. 

For  him,  and  for  me  too,  I  will  trust, 
No  watching  the  light  fade  gleam  by  gleam; 

No  time  for  the  fair  to  fall  in  dust. 
For  evil  to  cloud  and  spoil  the  dream : 

And  never  to  know  that  pain  of  pain 

To  have  wearied  of  dreams  and  found  them 
vain. 


38  THE   KISS 

I  envy  the  man,   for   in  that  hour  he 
Knew  his  impossible  hope  was  true. 

He  lost  the  world  for  a  kiss,  but  she 

Lost  him;  and,  as  each  fades  out  of  view, 

I  see  him  wrapt  in  a  blaze  of  bliss, 

She — ^kissing  dead  lips  that  cannot  kiss. 


THE  DREAM  OF  KINGS 

Dead  Kings  in  the  dust  are  hid 
Pharaoh  in  his  Pyramid, 
Caesar  sleeps  no  man  knows  where, 
Alexander's  tomb  is  bare, 
Bonaparte  lies  robed  in  lead. 
All  the  foes  he  fought  are  dead, 
Of  their  conquests  all  they  keep 
Is  a  place  wherein  to  sleep. 

Gone  the  purple  insolence 
Of  their  brief  omnipotence; 
Gone  the  legions  that  they  hurled 
Half  across  a  flaming  world; 


39 


40  THE   DREAM    OF    KINGS 

All  the  trumpets  shouting-  war 
Penetrate  not  where  they  are; 
Glory's  torch  that  led  them  on. 
Pride  that  mocked  oblivion, 
All  are  darkened,  all  are  gone. 

Humbler  now  the  dreams  they  have. 
Each  within  his  mighty  grave; 
Caesar,  wheresoe'er  he  lies 
Dreams  of  Cleopatra's  eyes; 
Alexander  craves  the  grace 
Of  Roxana's  tender  face; 
Bonaparte  with  passion  keen 
Turns  again  to  Josephine ; 
Each  toward  the  other  yearns, 
Glory  gone,  lo,  Love  returns. 


THE    DREAM    OF    KINGS  4I 

Dead  Kings  in  the  dust  are  hid, 
Yet  within  the  Pyramid, 
Monument  of  Glory's  lust, 
Hands  of  dust  seek  hands  of  dust; 
Quite  forgotten  crown  and  state ; 
Pomp  of  power,  fear  of  fate; 
Still  remains  one  subtler  bliss, 
Sweetness  of  some  woman's  kiss, 
All  that  life  has  left  them— this ! 


FROM  THE  HOUSE  OF  BONDAGE 

O,  WHEN  will  ye  let  us  go? 
We  have  toiled  and  are  not  fed, 
Scant  our  wages,  sour  our  bread ; 
Parched  and  smitten  of  the  sun 
Ours  is  labour  never  done. 
Bricks  we  fashion  without  straw, 
Blows  we   suffer  without  law, 
We  are  minished  and  brought  low, 
O  when  will  ye  let  us  go? 

Ah,  how  sad  the  years  and  slowf 

What  is  this  that  ye  have  said, 

"Depart  ye  when  your  debt  is  paid?" 
42 


FROM    THE    HOUSE   OF   BONDAGE  43 

Wherewithal  have  we  to  pay? 
Ye  have  taken  the  Hght  of  day, 
Taken  hope,  and  strength,  and  Hfe, 
Taken  children,  home  and  wife; 
Is  there  any  further  woe? 
O  when  will  ye  let  us  go? 

Up,  and  down,  and  to  and  fro 
We  see  long  processions  move; 
Maidens  garlanded  with  love, 
Youths  who  know  the  joy  of  youth. 
Priests  who  talk  of  right  and  truth! 
Not  for  us  the  lover's  bliss. 
Lips  that  whisper,  mouths  that  kiss, 
Nor  the  mind  that  seeks  to  know — 
O  when  will  ye  let  us  go? 


44  FROM    THE   HOUSE   OF   BONDAGE 

Once,  but  very  long  ago, 

So  we  heard  our  fathers  say. 

They  rose  up  at  dawn  of  day. 

Saw  the  sun,  a  shining  disc. 

Gild  the  feathered  tamarisk. 

Rode  forth  free  and  sang  their  psalm 

By  the  river-rooted  palm; 

No  such  joy  their  children  know — 

O  when  will  ye  let  us  go? 

Song  is   for  the   free,  we  trow, 
Worship  for  the  heart  at  ease. 
Prayer  for  those  who  dwell  in  peace, 
God  for  those  who  have  not  trod 
Thro'  the  Hell  that  knows  not  God! 
We,  in  strange  lands  wandering, 
Songs  of  Zion  cannot  sing, 


FROM    THE    HOUSE   OF    BONDAGE  45 

This  the  only  song*  we  know — 
O  when  will  ye  let  its  go? 

Near  the  waters,  where  they  flow. 
We  have  seen  the  refuse-heap, 
Refuse  no  man  cares  to  keep! 
Chard  and  fragment,  there  they  lie 
Quiet  in  their  infamy! 
Chard  and  fragment,  such  are  we. 
Quiet  all  we  yearn  to  be; 
Cast  us  forth,  and  even  so 
Let  us  go,  O  let  us  go! 

Now  there  falls  the  evening  glow, 
Now  the  solemn  temple's  built, 
Porch  of  stone  and  roof  of  gilt. 
Enter  in,  O  eager  throng, 
Flame-faced    priest    and    child    of   song! 


46  FROM    THE    HOUSE   OF    BONDAGE 

As  for  US,  we  have  not  sought 
Entrance  to  the  house  we  wrought; 
Humbler  coveting  we  know — 
Only  this,  O  let  ns  go! 

Now  there  dies  the  mason's  blow, 
Lingering  on  the  sunset  air; 
Now  is  built,  proportioned  fair. 
All  the  marriage-house  we  raised. 
Lo,  we  ask  not  to  be  praised; 
Enter  ye,  and  fragrant  lie 
On  your  beds  of  ivory; 
We,  too  dulled  by  work  and  woe, 
Only  cry,  O  let  us  go! 

Now  there  passes,  moving  slow, 

Torch-lit  to  the  Pyramid, 

He  from  whom  all  things  are  hid. 


FROM    THE    HOUSE    OF    BONDAGE  47 

Lo,  the  corpse  by  love  home-lit, 
We  behold  and  envy  it ! 
Lo,  the  dead,  the  Thing  he  is, 
We  would   fain  be   even  this! 
Mighty  death,  thou  art  no  foe, 
Thou  last  Friend,  O  let  us  go! 

God  hath  brought  us  very  low, 
Minished  and  brought  low  are  we, 
Things  of  naught  and  shame  we  be ! 
Bricks  we  fashion  without   straw, 
Blows  we  suffer  without  law; 
Hear  us,  God,  whom  none  will  heed. 
Out  of  Hell  we  fruitless  plead; 
Thou,  Who  knowest  things  are  so. 
Strike  Thine  hour,  and  let  us  go. 


PEACE 
Peace  ? 
Not  till  the  wrath  of  the  sea  is  ended  and  past; 
And  folded  the  wings  of  the  thunder  that 
troubled  the  world! 
Not   till   the   final   bolt   of   the   Lightning   is 
flash't 
Shall  the  winds  be  at  rest,  and  the  banners 
of  Tempest  be  furled  1 
Then  when  the  havoc  is  done, 
Shall  rise  the  innocent  Sun, 
And  the  Sea  and  the  Dead  shall  have  peace! 

Peace  ? 

Not  till  the  com  is  laid  low  and  the  land  is 

aflame 
48 


PEACE  49 

And  the  red  wine  of  War  is  drunk  to  its 
Mtterest  drop; 
Not  till  the  bruised  breasts  of  Freedom  are 
healed  of  their  shame, 
Not  till  the  city  is  void  shall  the  Plague- 
Angel  stop! 
Then,  when  the  Martyrdom's  done. 
Shall  rise  the  ignorant  Sun, 
And  the  Land  and  the  Dead  shall  have  peace ! 

Peace  ? 
Not  while  the  arrow  that  flies  at  noonday  is 
feared, 
Not  while  the  pestilence  poisons  and  darkens 
the  night ; 
Not  while  the  innocent  flesh  with  anguish  is 
seared, 


50  PEACE 

Not  while  at  eventide  weary  ones  cry  for 
the  hght ! 
Then,  when  the  Torture  is  done, 
Shall  rise  the  insolent  Sun, 
And  the  Dead  and  the  Living  have  peace ! 


THE  LAST    RIDE   OF   THE   SHEIK 
ABDULLAH 

Into  the  desert,  into  the  desert 

All  alone  I  ride! 

At  last  the  clamour  of  tongues  is  still. 

The  fever  of  living,  the  strife  of  will. 

The  doors  of  the  old  sick  life  flung  wide 

Let  me  out,  and  thus  I  ride. 

The  City  smokes  like  a  fire  of  leaves 

Fallen  and  burned  its  laurelled  pride; 

Grief  runs  moaning  under  its  eaves ; 

But  over  my  head  God's  whiteness  glides, 

Under  my  feet  the  wide  world  slides. 

It  is  earth  that  runs  back  like  a  tide, 

51 


52        THE  LAST  RIDE  OF  THE   SHEIK  ABDULLAH 

And  heaven  comes  rushing  up  as  I  ride, 
As  into  the  desert  I  ride. 

Still,  as  never  was  city  or  sea, 
Empty  of  man  or  house  or  tree, 
The  desert  lies  round  me  as  I  ride; 
The  blue  sky  shuts  down  everywhere 
Close  on  the  earth,  the  quivering  air 
Parts  like  a  flame  that  winds  divide, 
And  closes  behind  me  as  I  ride. 

Ah,  Joy  of  Freedom!    Let  me  ride 
Far  from  the  world  I  have  denied. 
Forever  and  ever  on,  still  on. 
Till  all  the  stars  that  flickered  and  shone 
Have  fallen  behind  me,  one  by  one. 
Till  I  touch  the  blue  steep  wall  of  air. 
And  suddenly  draw  rein  at  God's  stair, 


THE  LAST  RIDE  OF  THE  SHEIK   ABDULLAH        53 

Coming   on   Heaven    unaware, 
As  over  the  desert  I  ride. 

Caged  and  tamed  for  many  a  day, 

In  the  world's  market  hot  and  gray, 

I  have  danced,  a  puppet,  to  pipes  that  play 

A  mirthful  tune  that  mirth  belied ; 

A  wilder  music  now  salutes 

My  soul,  and  runs  around  life's  roots, 

Like  silver  rain  that  melts  the  sod. 

Hark!    how  the  sands  around  me  hum, 

And  all  the  stretched  sky,  like  a  drum, 

Throbs  at  the  finger-touch  of  God, 

As  into  the  desert  I  ride. 

I  will  ride  right  on  to  God's  feet. 
For  my  heart  is  strong,  my  camel  fleet ; 


54        THE  LAST  RIDE  OF  THE  SHEIK  ABDULLAH 

I  will  ride  on  and  never  stop 
Till  at  His  palace  stair  I  drop, 
When  Azrael  standeth  wonder-eyed, 
In  one  last  venture  quenching  thirst 
For  freedom  lost  in  the  years  accurst 
Which  barren  as  sand  behind  me  lie; 
On  to  the  rim  of  the  utmost  sky 
I  ride  as  I  die,  I  die  and  ride! 

The  earth  slides  under  me  like  a  tide, 

My  life  runs  out  of  me  as  I  ride, 

I  ride  right  into  Eternity; 

Azrael  stoops  to  let  me  by, 

Like  a  torn  curtain  hangs  the  sky, 

Heaven  upon  its  other  side! 

And  so  I  ride, 

I  die  as  I  ride,  I  ride  and  die. 


SALOME 

(Singing) 

Grasp  the  world,  O  hands  of  mine, 
Little  hands  that  hold  the  world — • 
Press  it,  till  it  flows  in  wine, 
Fling  it  from  thee,  like  the  curled 
Grape-skin,  when  its  use  is  done — 
See  the  magic  goblet  shine, 
Red  with  blood  and  brigJit  with  sun — 
So  I  drink — the  draught  is  mine! 

(Speaking) 
Not  that  I  care  so  much,  but  who  could  tell 

The  issue,  like  a  hungry  lightning  glare 

55 


S6  SALOME 

Flasht  from  clear  heavens?   I  never  danced 

so  well, 
That  said  he,  said  they  all.    I  feel  my  hair 
Stir    still    with    magic    motions,    perfumed 

wind 
Lashed  into  eddies,  beating*  on  the  bare 
Smooth  limbs  and  breast;  and  then  I  throw 

behind, 
Over  my  shoulder,  so,  a  sudden  glance. 
And  catch  their  faces  smitten  by  its  light 
Into  a  hungrier  circle.     Then  I  smile. 
And  suddenly  all  the  spirit  of  the  dance 
Consumes  me,  rends  me,  blots  and  blurs  my 

sight 
With  a  fiery  wind,  their  great  eyes  all  the 

while 
Burning  yet  closer,  eating  into  my  heart. 


SALOME  57 

Who  cares  what  comes?.     There's  nothing 

good  nor  vile. 
The  world  whirls  round,  I'm  lifted  like  a 

part 
Of  a  giant  whole;  a  spirit's  in  my  feet. 
He  rends  my  raiment,  shakes  my  black  hair 

down. 
Smites  my  lips  into  song,  so  shrill  and  sweet 
It  frightens  me.     Ah,  that's  my  own,  my 

own! 
Limbs,   hair,    song,   face,    I  know  to-night 

to  be 
Most  beautiful.     Look,  my  lords,  there's  a 

foot 
Worthy    a    throne    at    least!     What's    the 

decree  ? 


Half  of  his  kingdom  Herod  gives  to  me? 


58  SALOME 

I    cannot    tell;    but    all    the    great   lamps 

shoot 
An  angry  light,  and  suddenly,  like  a  tide. 
The  fire  runs  out  of  my  heart,  and  still  I 

stand 
As  though  I  had  never  moved;  and  there's 

a  hand 
Laid  on  me,  and  Herodias,  crafty-eyed. 
Is  buzzing  at  my  ear. 

(Singing) 

Good  and  ill,  mere  colors  these. 
Take  of  each  as  thou  shalt  please. 
Purple  grape  or  yellow — thine; 
Each  alike  shall  make  lifers  mine. 
See  the  magic  goblet  shine, 
Drink  thy  fill,  and  take  thy  ease. 


SALOME  59 

(Speaking) 
What's  man  after  all?    Is  flesh  so  dear 
That  I  should  tremble?     Yes,  we  feed  on 

men, 
You  and  I,  mother ;  that's  a  woman's  part — 
Glare  on  them,  kiss  them,  draw  them  near, 

and  then 
Leave  their  bones  tO'  the  vulture.     That's 

the  art 
You've  taught  me,  and  I  have  not  learned 

amiss : 
I'll  snare  a  Caesar  some  day — there's  a  prey 
Worthy  the  aim.     I  ever  took  as  bliss 
The  sight  of  death.     Heart  of  me !  many  a 

day 
How  I  have  clapped  my  hands  to  see  the 

play, 


6o  SALOME 

When   the   stripped   gladiators   hewed    and 

hacked 
And  made  the  sand  red.    Once  a  man  I  saw 
Just  at  my  feet,  torn  by  the  hon's  paw, 
His  shoulder  bare  to  the  bone,  beseeching  me 
In   a  hoarse  voice  that  was  so  shrill  and 

cracked 
I  laughed  outright.     'Twas  god-like  sport 

to  see 
The  great  beast  leap,  his  angry  mane  like  fire 
Flashing    about    his    ears,    the    downward 

stroke 
Of  the  great  foot  striking  into  the  mire 
The  man  like  a  mouse,  with  his  back  torn 

and  broke; 
And    I — I    called    for    more — more    lions, 

more  men: 


SALOME  6l 

That  tawny  beast  who  glares  in  yonder  den, 
Pit  him  against  a  score,  the  supplest  score 
Of  slaves  who  ever  trembled!    Ah,  the  lonsr 

day, 
Would  it  had  lasted  longer !    Evermore 
The  same  big  pulse  sending  delicious  thrills 
Through  the  swoll'n  veins,   when   the  eye 

caught  the  ray 
Of   the   sharp  sword,   and   heard   the   lion 

roar 
Over  his  prey,  like  thunder  in  the  hills. 
And  Herod,  you  remember,  all  the  day 
Sleepily  watched,  quick'ning  a  little  bit 
When  the  men  died,  till  through  the  nar- 
row slit 
Of  his  heavy  lids  you  saw  there  burned  a 
flame 


62  SALOME 

Eager  as  mine,   whose  passion  went  and 

came 
Like  a  strong  madness,  till  I  longed  to  hurl 
You,  and  your  Herod,  and  all  the  people 

down 
Into  the  sand,  and  watch  the  bloody  whirl — 
I,  on  the  topmost  turret's  slippery  stone. 
Standing  triumphant  in  the  wind,  alone, 
Watching  you  fight  and  die.    There,  do  not 

frown. 
That's   but   a    fancy.      What    was    it   you 

said? 
This  man,  this  John  the  Baptist:  well,   I 

own 
I  care  not  if  he  be  alive  or  dead; 
Let  him  rot  slowly,  or  be  slain,  or  choke; 
But  why  should  /  strike  the  stroke? 


SALOME  63 

I  saw  him  once :  dark  like  a  thunder-rack 

He  lowered  in  the  outer  court,  his  eyes,  jet 
black. 

Burned  with  a  flame  no  other  eyes  e'er  had ; 

His  voice  like  a  trumpet,  angry,  somewhat 
sad, 

Calling,  Repent:  I  wonder  what  he  meant? 

There  he  stood  garbed  in  skins,  his  shoul- 
ders bent, 

Black  hair  like  mine,  but  grizzled  and  un- 
kempt. 

Looking  around  with  something  like  con- 
tempt 

Or  pity,  with  a  fixed,  clear,  eager  gaze, 

As  one  who  saw  right  through  the  sunlight's 
blaze 


64  SALOME 

Into    the    place   beyond,    where   there    are 

hatched 
The     viper-Hghtnings :    so    he    stood    and 

watched. 
He   moved   me    for    a   moment,    made   me 

feel 
A  strange  deep  thrill,  I  never  could  think 

why, 
But    you — you    hate    him    with    a  hate   so 

real, 
I  would  not  wonder  if  that  same  deep  eye 
Spied    something   now :    or    if   those    same 

thin  lips 
Loosed  on  you  their  sharp  hail.    I've  heard 

it  said 
If  you  say  "John"  to  Herod,  he  bows  his 

head. 


I 


SALOME  65 

And  his  puffed  face  grows  dark,  as  though 

edipse 
Breathed  in  the  presence  of  a  hated  name. 

Well,  let  him  die :  I  never  liked  to  see 
Men  whose  eyes  smote  you  with  that  kind 

of  flame : 
But  why  insist  he  die  so  secretly? 
Now  I  would  bring  him  in,  call  Tertius, 
Make  them  both  fight — there,  in  that  marble 

space ; 
Think  of  what  jest  the  two  would  make 

for  us ! 
Only  I  must  confess  that  solemn  face 
Might  spoil  the  banquet  with  its  angry  eyes; 
So  why  not  save  him  for  the  lions  ?    'Twere 

wise 


66  SALOME 

To  keep  a  man  like  that ;  be  sure  he'd  fight 
Beyond  the  best.   'Tis  hardly  worth  the  light 
To  kill  him  secretly;  we  shall  not  see 
Whether  he  quail  or  frown.     But  let  it  be. 
We  want  no  thunder-clouds  round  Herod's 

board ; 
Let  them  go  quickly,  bring   the   head  ab- 
horred. 
And  since  you  dare  not  bear  it — why,  let  me! 

(Singing) 
Life  and  death  meet  in  one  cup, 
Good  and  evil  make  the  wine; 
See  the  magic  goblet  shine. 
Take  the  draught,  and  drink  if  up. 


BLAKE'S    HOMECOMING 

There  was  sorrow  on  the  sea, 
All  the  way,  all  the  way! 

Home  we  came  with  fame,  but  he 
Dying,  dying  all  the  way. 

At  Santa  Cruz  the  squadron  lay, 

At  dawn  the  whisper  flew 
"God  be  thanked  we  sail  today!" 

Voices  sang  and  trumpets  blew, 

All  the  fleet  was  like  a  fair, 

"Pulley  haul,  and  heave,  yo  ho! 

67 


68  blare's  homecoming 

Ready  here  and  steady  there, 

Let  her  go, 
Head  her  northward  thro'  the  bay!" 

"Send  the  wind,  O  God  be  kind !" 
Volleying-  from  the  south  it  came, 

With  the  thunder  packed  behind. 
So  we  sailed  with  seas  aflame. 

Fire-led,  like  the  Israelite, 
Cloud-defended,  so  we  sailed; 

Trumpets  blowing  day  and  night 
Shrilled  and  hailed. 

And  God  rode  upon  the  wind. 

"Waken,"  hear  the  seaman  cry, 
"Waken,  Captain,  England's  near!" 


Blake's  homecoming  69 

Grayer  grew  the  sea  and  sky, 

Nor'west  all  the  land  rose  clear. 
Dim-eyed,  worn  with  wounds  and  care, 

On  the  heaving-  deck  sat  Blake, 
"Tell  me  where  is  England,  where?" 

So  he  spake, 
"Let  me  see  her  ere  I  die!" 

Now  the  Lizard's  past,  and  lo 

All  the  Cornish  hills  rise  red 
In  the  Autumn's  after-glow. 

"Heaven,"  was  the  one  word  he  said. 
"England  and  not  Heaven,"  we  cried. 

"  'Tis  the  same,"  he  made  reply. 
Bonfires  blazed  out  far  and  wide. 

Lit  the  sky 
All  the  way  to  Plymouth  Hoe! 


70  blare's  homecoming 

Fair  the  wind  and  swift  the  tide; 

Ah,  the  Enghsh  air  is  sweet! 
People  shouted,  trumpets  cried ; 

Then  he  rose  upon  his  feet, 
Strove  to  see,  but  he  was  bhnd, 

Strove  to  walk,  but  force  was  spent, 
Felt  upon  his  face  the  wind. 

Smiled  content. 
Tasting  English  air — and  died! 

Hush  the  trumpets  I    Cease  the  din ! 

Shores  of  England,  be  ye  dumb! 
He  is  gone,  some  port  to  win 

Where  your  praises  cannot  come. 
On  the  other  side  for  him 

Blow  God's  trumpets,  clear  and  far, 


blare's  homecoming  71 

See  his  soul  pass,  fading  dim 

Like  a  star! 
Shores  be  still!     He  enters  in. 

There  was  glory  on  the  sea, 

All  the  way,  all  the  way! 
Home  we  came  with  fame,  but  he 

Dying,  dying  all  the  way. 


CADIZ    BAY 

You  remember  Cadiz  Bay? 

There  the  water  shoals  away, 

Spouts  and  tumbles,  green  as  grass, 

Greener  water  never  was. 

Red  and  yellow  spreads  the  land, 

Pink  and  yellow  spreads  the  sand; 

Like  a  bubble  on  the  swell 

Rides  the  glittering  citadel. 

And  beyond  it,  flower-bright. 

Piled  up  windows  take  the  light. 

Sailing  through  the  gates  of  day, 

Thus  I  saw  fair  Cadiz  town 
72 


CADIZ    BAY  73 

With  the  blue  hills  looking-  down, 
Cadiz  town  by  Cadiz  Bay. 

Raleigh  sailed  into  this  Bay 
Long  since  when  the  dawn  was  gray ; 
Fought  till  eve  the  Spanish  dons. 
Broke  their  high-built  galleons, 
"Now,"  quoth  he,  "I  think  I  hear 
Old   Sir  Richard  calling  clear, 
'Here  die  I,  at  set  of  sun, 
Joyous,  for  my  duty's  done!' 
Over  Cadiz,  like  a  flame, 
Burns  Sir  Richard's  glorious  name; 
On  the  poop  of  Heaven  he  stands. 
See  him — lifting  crimson  hands! 
Hear  him — 'Thus   I   led  the  way; 
Who  for  England  dies  today?' 
Thus  spake  he  in  Cadiz  Bay." 


74  CADIZ    BAY 

Two  long  centuries  pass  away; 
Sailing  into  Cadiz  Bay 
Comes  another  admiral, 
Bravest  he,  where  brave  were  all. 
"Duty — let  the  word  flame  far, 
"Starriest  word,  be  thou  our  star! 
"Burn  aloft  amid  the  gloom, 
"Light  us  to  the  hero's  tomb; 
"This  day  every  man  shall  do 
"His  duty!"     So,  on  that  great  day 
The  exultant  signal  flew 
All   the   length  of   Cadiz  Bay. 

O  my  England,  old  and  gray, 
You'll  remember  Cadiz  Bay? 
Here  the  voice  of  England  spake, 
Here  came  Raleigh,  Nelson,  Blake, 


CADIZ    BAY  75 

Spake  triumphant,  glorious  came, 
With  shouting  crews  and  ships  aflame, 
Riding  down  the  water-way, 
Proud  as  on  a  marriage  day! 
You'll  remember  that  great  youth 
When  you  fought  for  realm  and  truth; 
And  we,  O  curs't  be  we,  and  let 
Our  tongues  be  dumb  if  we  forget! 

Puissant  still,  by  all  defied, 
England,  for  whom  Nelson  died, 
Front  thy  fate!     Arise  and  be 
What  thou  wert,  nor  fear  to  play 
Thy  mighty  part !    The  Victory 
With  thy  pennon  flying  free. 
Lords  it  still  in  Cadiz  Bay! 


THE  FIRST-BORN 

The  bitterest  and  the  gladdest  hour  it  was! 

I  stood  at  the  stair's  foot,  and  heard  your  cry 

Pierce  thro'  the  house.    Upon  the  slanting  glass 

The    setting    sun    made    splendour,    and    I 

watched 

Him  sink  with  eyes  that  nothing  saw.     Again 

A  moment's  space  the  chamber-door  unlatched 

Let  out  your  meanings,  and  I  bitterly 

Bowed  down,  and  trembled  at  your  voice  of 

pain. 

Eternity  seemed  crowded  in  that  hour; 

All  thought  and  passion,   faculty  and  power, 

Was  quickened  and  intense:  the  veil  of  gross 
76 


THE    FIRST-BORN  ^7 

And  faulty  apprehension  was  withdrawn 
And  left  the  naked  heaven  of  infinite  things 
Close  to  me,  like  a  throbbing  heart.     More 

close 
I  felt  thy  spirit,  and  I  cried,  "What  now 
If  she  be  passing  out  on  angel's  wings?" 
Just  then  the  sun  sank  to  his  other  dawn, 
And,  as  his  rim  burned  down  in  final  glow, 
I  heard  a  new  voice  in  the  house,  the  cry 
Of  the  new-born,  whose  kindling  human  light 
Rose  on  our  lives,  and,  please  God,  by-and-by. 
Shall  shine  afar  athwart  the  world's  dim  night, 
When  you  and  I  in  our  dark  rest  shall  lie. 


DELIVERANCE 

In  that  sore  hour  around  thy  bed  there  stood 
A  silent  guard  of  shadows,  each  equipped 
With  dart  or  arrow  aimed  against  thy  life; 
Thy  breath  came  slowly  all  that  awful  night! 
Outside  I  heard  the  Wind  and  Earth  at  strife, 
And  on  the  window's  ledge  incessant  dripped 
The  pitiless  rain.     At  last  I  left  thy  room. 
And,  passing  out,  upon  the  threshold's  edge 
Whom  should  I  meet  but  Death !    A  wan  clear 

light 
Fell  from  his  fathomless  eyes;  his  brow  was 

gloom, 

His  rustling  raiment  seemed  to  sigh  like  sedge 
78 


DELIVERANCE  79 

When   the   salt   marsh   winds   wail   and   beat 

thereon. 
He  paused,  he  turned;  and  while  I  stood  and 

wept, 
Behold  a  crimson  signal  waved  and  shone 
On  the  door's  lintel, — even  such  an  one 
As  he  obeyed  in  Egypt — and  I  knew 
Death  heard  some  higher  summons  and  with- 
drew. 
When  I  returned,  like  a  tired  child  you  slept. 


AT   A   GRECIAN   ALTAR 

Pale  brow,  no  crown  adorning, 

Dim  eyes  that  cannot  see. 
Face  lifted  up  for  scorning-, 

What  empire  calls  for  Thee? 

What  token  dost  Thou  show  me, 

By  what  sign  may  I  know  Thee, 

What  homage   do  I   owe  Thee, 

That  Thou  persuadest  me? 

Where  wasting  water  floweth 

To  the  unwasting  sea, 

When  Aphrodite  goeth 

Foam-garlanded  and  free, 
80 


AT    A    GRECIAN    ALTAR  8l 

Where  Tritons  sport  at  leisure, 
And  all  things  move  in  measure 
To  a  sonorous  pleasure, 
O  who  shall  turn  to  Thee? 

Where  shining  towers  of  laurel 
Guard  all  the  flower-fresh  lea, 

And,  pale  with  amorous  quarrel, 
Or,  flushed  with  ecstasy. 

Daphne  flies  from  Apollo, 

By  woodland  height  and  hollow 

And  racing  Cupids  follow. 
What  place  is  this  for  Thee? 

Yet,  when  the  laurel   burneth, 

And  grief  comes  suddenly, 
When  joy  no  more  returneth, 

Nor  song  to  the  gray  sea; 


82  AT    A    GRECIAN    ALTAR 

When  shadows  come  and  thicken, 
And  hope  itself  doth  sicken, 
And  hearts  no  longer  quicken 
To  flutes  of  Arcady: 

When  men  flee  as  a  shadow 
That  fades  and  shall  not  be; 

When  mist  lies  on  the  meadow 
And  pain  moans  in  the  sea; 

When  love  grows  tired  of  giving, 

And  mortal  wills  of  striving. 

And  life  itself  of  living, 
Then  Thou  persuadest  me! 

Yet  fair  was  man  and  woman, 
By  that  Leucadian  sea. 

Then  gods  themselves  were  human 
With  cheerful  gaiety; 


AT    A   GRECIAN    ALTAR  83 

Heedless  of  past  or  morrow, 
They  knew  not  how  to  borrow 
From  hours  of  sin  long  sorrow 
As  Thou  of  Galilee. 

Earth  mixed  itself  with  heaven, 

Man  spake  with  deity, 
Nor   felt  thro'   sombre  even 

The  weight  of  things  to  be; 
Day  brought  no  hours  of  weeping, 
Nor  toil,  nor  fruitless  reaping, 
And  night  brought  quiet  sleeping 

Of  fulfilled  infancy. 

And  so  man  lived  contented 

Dream-rich  and  vision-free, 
Had  naught  that  he  repented, 

Was  naught  he  would  not  be; 


84  AT   A   GRECIAN    ALTAR 

Made  gods  of  his  own  nature. 
Grew  to  his  perfect  stature, 
A  half-divine  glad  creature 
Of  sun  and  wood  and  sea; 

Till,  undesired,  Thou  earnest 

Pale  god  of  agony; 
With  sudden  words  Thou  flamest 

Upon  the  crimson  sea. 
And  on  the  dawn  came  wailing. 
And  clouds  of  darkness  sailing. 
And  wrath,  and  bitter  railing, 

And  broken  melody. 

The  woods  that  knew  the  waters 
Where  Naiades  moved  free, 

The  hills  that  knew  the  daughters 
Of  Bacchanalian  glee. 


AT    A    GRECIAN    ALTAR  8$ 

The  dales  and  groves,  dew-gleaming, 
That  saw  the  gracious  seeming 
Of  fair  Endymion's  dreaming, 
Grew  sad  because  of  Thee! 

With  slow  maimed  feet  Thou  leadest 

Thy  grief -worn  company, 
With  hollow  voice  Thou  pleadest 

That  man  should  follow  Thee. 
What  token  dost  Thou  show  me. 
By  what  sign  may  I  know  Thee, 
What  homage  do  I  owe  Thee, 

That  Thou  persuadest  me? 

Yet  when  to  me,  not  prayerless, 

The  gods  indifferent  be; 
When  love  itself,  grown  careless. 

Proves  its  inconstancy; 


86  AT    A   GRECIAN    ALTAR 

I  hear  Thy  step  behind  me, 
I  would  some  god  might  find  me, 
Aye,  Lord,  subdue  and  bind  me, 
And  love  me  utterly. 

The  vain  gods  pass;  they  care  not 

For  human  misery. 
They  kill,  they  smite,  they  spare  not. 

All  cruel  and  cold  they  be. 
Their  brows  are  clothed  with  thunder, 
Their  feet  are  shod  thereunder 
With  flame  that  burns  asunder 

Clasped  hands  they  do  not  see. 

With  grief  they  will  not  tarry. 
Nor  do  they  care  that  we 

Such  bitter  burdens  carry 
Thro'  days  that  bitter  be. 


AT    A    GRECIAN    ALTAR  87 

They  mock  with  mirth  our  mourning, 
They  smite  us  witiiout  warning. 
Their  mouths  are  filled  with  scorning, 
Their  hearts  with  enmity. 

But  Thou,  more  gently  fashioned, 

Hast  conquered  agony; 
Thou  stand'st  serene,  impassioned, 

Lord  of  calamity! 
Thine  eyes,  all  grief  confessing. 
Are   full  of   quiet  blessing; 
Thy  wounds,  on  my  wounds  pressing, 

Change  pain  to  ecstasy. 

When  Joy  flies  as  a  shadow 
That  fades  and  shall  not  be; 

When  mist  lies  in  the  meadow 
And  grief  moans  on  the  sea; 


88  AT    A   GRECIAN    ALTAR 

Then,  by  the  peace  Thou  sharest, 
By  that  dim  crown  Thou  wearest, 
By  that  red  Cross  Thou  bearest, 
Thou  call'st  my  soul  to  Thee. 

For  Grief  shall  outlast  laughter. 

And  pain  hold  bliss  in  fee; 
And  what  love  follows  after 

To  where  all  dead  men  be? 
And  who,  and  by  what  vision. 
Shall  shield  from  death's  decision, 
Or  call  from  fields  Elysian 
His  lost  Eurydice? 

Yea,  who,  when  sad  eyes  fall  on 
Sad  eyes  that  cannot  see; 

When  fruitless  voices  call  on 
Closed  ears,  closed  utterly; 


AT   A   GRECIAN    ALTAR  89 

When  love  is  turned  to  sadness. 
And  memory  to  madness, 
Shall  give  me  back  the  gladness 
Whereof  Time  spoileth  me? 

Not  Pan  whose  pipes  are  broken 

By  that  Ionian  sea, 
Where  Thamos  heard  words  spoken 

Of  gods  in  agony. 
Nor  Zeus,  who  long  hath  slumbered, 
Nor  Bacchus,  vine-encumbered. 
Nor  nymphs,  nor  fauns  unnumbered 

Of   laughing   Arcady. 

But  Thou,  all  anguish  proving 

Thereby  hast  victory! 
Thou  conquer'st  hate  by  loving', 

Thro'  bondage  art  made  free; 


9°  AT    A    GRECIAN    ALTAR 

Fate's  master  thro'  complying 
With  Fate:  Joy's  lord  thro'  sighing; 
Death's  vanquisher  by  dying, 
Lord,  Thou  persuadest  me. 


A  CHILD   IN  HEAVEN 

I  NEVER  dreamed  that  God  could  need 

A  child  so  small  as  this ; 
I  quite  forgot,  until  God  spoke 

That  this,  my  child,  was  His. 
I  said,  "My  child  shall  dwell  with  me, 

From  Life's  dawn  to  Life's  even," 
And  God  replied,  "The  child  is  Mine, 

And  he  shall  dwell  in  Heaven." 

Death  never  heard  such  tiny  hands 

Grope  on  his  massy  doors ; 

God  never  saw  such  tiny  feet 

Move  up  His  golden  floors. 

91 


92  A    CHILD   IN    HEAVEN 

Scarce  from  his  mother  was  he  weaned, 

Scarce  felt  her  soft  embraces, 
When  he  must  walk  alone,  unscreened, 

Thro'  these  wide  heavenly  places. 

This  room's  length  was  his  continent. 

His  treasured  bliss — this  toy! 
What  did  he  know,  what  could  he  do 

In  that  ethereal  joy? 
Crowns  for  the  saint,  palms  for  the  pure, 

For  these  be  fitting  blisses; 
But  what  for  him,  whose  gain  secure 

Was  just — his  mother's  kisses? 

Here  is  the  cradle  where  he  lay. 

White  as  his  innocence, 
No  hand  hath  touched  it  since  the  day 

God  stooped  and  took  him  hence. 


A    CHILD   IN    HEAVEN  93 

And  here  the  empty  breast  whereon 

He  drank  of  joys  and  sorrows, 
And  dreamed  his  dreams — Alas,  my  son! — 

Of  unfulfilled  tomorrows. 

"Mother  of  God"— Some  hope  I  find 

In  that  remembered  word; 
Thou,  on  whose  breast  the  sweet  Child  lay 

Who  brought  thy  heart  the  sword, 
Did'st  thou  not  see  my  little  son, 

Did'st  thou  not  smile  to  meet  him, 
With  kisses  on  thy  mouth  did'st  run 

To  welcome  him  and  greet  him? 

It  must  be  so;  for  saints  the  palm, 

But  what  for  those  who  wait, 
Mere  mothers  who  with  wistful  eyes 

Watch  at  the  crystal  gate? 


94  A    CHILD    IN    HEAVEN 

O,  too  austere  for  childish  gaze 

The  throne  of  the  Eternal, 
A  lonely  child  up  Heaven's  wide  ways 

Comes  seeking  the  maternal! 

Yet  let  me  think ;  was  there  no  grief 

God  tasted   in   that  hour 
When  from  His  breast  the  Son  went  forth 

On  whom  Death  should  have  power? 
Down  thro'  the  void  alone  He  trod, 

While  stars  sang  loud  evangels : 
But  round  the  secret  place  of  God 

There  stood  the  weeping  angels. 

There  stood  the  angels,  veiled  and  dumb, 
And  Heaven  laid  down  its  mirth, 

Remembering  One,  so  far  away, 
The  Son  of  God  on  earth! 


A    CHILD    IN    HEAVEN  95 

Father  of  the  Beloved  Son 

To  earthly  exile  given, 
Help  me  to  say,  "Thy  will  be  done," 

I  have  a  child  in  Heaven. 


LONDON 

I  LOVE  this  London  with  a  love  half  hate, 

Fall'n  Angel  thou,  all  scarred  with  starry- 
fires! 
Mistress  and  foe  of  souls  disconsolate, 

Centre  and  grave  of  all  man's  mad  desires, 
Heaven  of  the  happy,  and  the  sad  man's  Hell, 

Imperial  harlot,  mirthful  in  thy  woe. 
Wise,  tragic,  foolish,  imperturbable, 

O  wherefore,  wherefore  should  I  love  thee 
so? 

Yet  so  it  is,  so  it  must  ever  be! 

No  quiet  hills  can  win  me  to  their  peace; 
96 


LONDON  97 

I  hear  thy  tumult  in  the  strenuous  sea, 
Thy   wind-blown  Hghts  outshine  the  Plei- 
ades! 

Freed   from   my    chain,    for   Bondage   still   I 
yearn, 

I  fly  from  thee,  detest  thee,  and  return. 


DEPARTURE 

There's  a  silence  on  the  meadows,  there's  a 
kindness  in  the  trees, 
There's   a  smiling  dew  of  tears  upon  the 
grass. 
And  the  flowers  lean  their  petals  and  brush 
against  my  knees, 
And  the  myrtles  stoop  toward  me  as  I  pass. 
For  they  know,  ah,  well  they  know 
That  today  from  them  I  go. 

There's  a  beauty  in  the  City  that  I  never  saw 

before, 

And  the  old  gray  spires  are  built  of  sapphire 

flame, 
98 


DEPARTURE  99 

And  the  dingy  streets  are  changed,  each  one 
a  jasper  floor, 
Like    the    city    John    saw,    Jerusalem    its 
name — 
For  it  knows,  ah,  it  doth  know 
That  today  from  it  I  go. 

And  the  faces  of  the  men  and  women  in  the 
street, 
And  the  toilers  and  the  ragged  boys  at  play. 
Are  kindly-eyed  and  fair,    are    serious    and 
sweet, 
Friendly-featured  as  I  go  away  today; 
For  they  know,  ah,  yes  they  know 
That  today  from  them  I  go. 

I  never  thought  to  miss  them,  the  old  familiar 
ways, 
Happy-hearted  I  was  minded  to  depart. 


100  DEPARTURE 

But  now  the  softened  music  of  those  separated 
days 
Haunts  my  dreams  at  night,  and  fills  my 
heart. 
For  I  know,  ah,  now  I  know 
What  it  costs  me  thus  to  go. 


EMMAUS 

At  night  across  the  fens  we  walked, — • 
The  large  round  moon  hung  low — 

And  I  grew  silent  as  you  talked, 
Until  at  last  the  brook's  dull  flow. 
The  Spring  wind  moving  to  and  fro. 

Spoke  loudest  as  we  walked. 

I  did  not  speak, — you  wondered  why — 
For  you  that  night  were  gay. 

With  jest  and  jibe  that  craved  reply, 
Your  wit  made  scornful  mock  and  play 
Of  creeds  your  life  had  cast  away, 

And  I  was  silent — why? 

lOI 


102  EMMAUS 

I  tell  you  now:  against  the  moon 
A  Tree  rose  black  and  tall. 

Whereon  I  saw,  as  clear  as  noon, 
A  Man,  who  did  for  pity  call ; 
Could  I  approach  with  spear  and  gall 

That  Cross  against  the  moon? 

I  tell  you  now:  One  walked  with  me, 
Who  put  His  hands  in  mine. 

And  touched  me  very  tenderly: 
Be  He  all  human  or  divine, 
Or  how  the  God  and  man  combine 

I  know  not — ^but  He  walked  with  me. 

I  tell  you  now:   One  stooped  to  me, 
And  drew  my  lips  to  His; 


EMMAUS  103 

He  led  me  out  to  Galilee, 

And  bade  my  heart  not  faithless  be, 
And  gave  me  the  disciple's  kiss, 

You  mocked  Him — but  He  stooped  to  me. 

At  night  across  the  fens  we  walked. 
The  large  round  moon  hung  low — ■ 

All  silently  to  me  He  talked. 
Until  I  heard  the  quiet  flow 
Of  water  He  hushed  long  ago, 

When  on  the  waves  He  walked. 


IN   NO   MAN'S   LAND 

Behold  me,  brother,  about  to  die! 
Eton  watched  my  mind  expand, 
Oxford  saw  my  hopes  Hame  high, 
London  broke  my  manhood's  strength 
Slow  I  sank,  till  here  at  length 
I  found  this  innocent  infamy 
Of  board  and  bed  in  No  Man's  Land. 

Judge,  brother,  if  I  fear  to  die! 

I  loved  mankind,  and  none  did  hate; 

But  in  me  thrived  no  faculty 

Of  friendship;  I  have  never  known 

A  soul  that  truly  touched  my  own; 
104 


IN    NO    man's    land  105 

Lo,  this  was  my  infirmity, 
My  torture  also,  and  my  fate. 

Judge,  brothers,  if  this  world  seem  sweet! 
By  many  roads  I  sought  to  rise; 
Men  thrust  aside  my  halting  feet, 
Until  at  last  my  strength  was  spent, 
And  I,  assured  incompetent, 
Was  driven  like  dust  about  the  street. 
Beneath  a  city's  scornful  eyes. 

Of  all  the  things  which  I  have  done, 
If  one  were  perfect  of  its  kind 
Content  were  I  to  leave  the  sun: 
But   nothing   has   been   perfectly 
Wrought  to  the  aim  which  tortured  me; 
In  common  grooves  my  life  has  run. 
Nor  ever  answered  to  my  mind. 


io6  IN  NO  man's  land 

Like  one,  who  hears  a  haunting  sound 
Of  music,  magically  wrought, 
Which  floats  above  him  and  around; 
Who  follows  breathless,  but  in  vain 
O'er  hill  and  moor — so  I,  with  pain 
Have  toiled  thro'  life's  enchanted  ground. 
Some  seek  and  find :  I  only  sought. 

Some  incommunicable  heat 
Of  high  desire  alone  was  mine; 
Some  hidden  stubborn  pulse  that  beat 
Somewhere  within  the  heart  or  brain. 
And  stung  me  with  its  fruitless  pain; 
The  heart  to  race — but  lame  the  feet. 
The  will,  but  not  the  power  to  shine. 


IN   NO    man's   land  107 

So,  Steadily  down  to  No  Man's  Land 
I  sank;  put  angry  shame  aside, 
Relinquished  friendship's  slack'ning  hand, 
And  made  an  end  of  hope  and  trust. 
Making  no  question  things  were  just; 
Sometimes,  too,  saw  the  Happy  stand 
Far-off,  all  rainbow-clad — and   sighed! 

But  now  all's  over.     On  the  stair 
Down  which  there  slides  the  last  lean  rat. 
There  waits  a  guest,  benign  and  fair. 
Come  in,  O  Death!    The  roof  is  low. 
But  lower  that  to  which  we  go. 
And  if  the  room  be  cold  and  bare, 
Thou  sure  wilt  not  complain  of  that. 


io8  IN  NO  man's  land 

At  least  'tis  no  unusual  fate 
To  drink  the  bitter  cup  and  die. 
All  generations,  soon  or  late, 
Tread  the  same  much-frequented  road ; 
Here  Caesar  stumbled  with  his  load 
Of  fame;  here,  wild  and  passionate, 
Pale  Cleopatra,  Antony! 

Alike  the  anguish!     He  who  first 
Did  taste  of  Death  might  cry  to  God 
In  terror,  when  upon  him  burst 
The  void  and    darkness   infinite; 
But  now  our  eyes  grow  used  to  night; 
Nor  can  we  wholly  count  accurst 
So  known  a  fate,  so  thronged  a  road. 


IN    NO    man's   land  109 

Fog"-blurred,  the  dawn  comes  wearily, 
I  hear  far-off  the  scolding  wheel 
Grind  on  the  iron  rails,  I  see 
The  dim  host  in  the  dissonant  street 
March  out  to  toil  with  dragging  feet; 
Brothers,  do  ye   not  envy  me, 


That  I  no  longer  strive  nor  feel? 


Poor  fool  of  time  advance,  advance! 
Long  since  hast  thou  been  done  with  hope, 
Long  known  thine  insignificance ; 
One  lesson  more — that  this  vast  whole 
Ignores  the  individual  soul; 
Ask  not  for  any  further  chance, 
Nor  wish  a  life  of  wider  scope. 


no  IN    NO    MANS    LAND 

Behold  me,  broken  on  Fortune's  wheel! 
Eton  saw  my  mind  expand, 
Oxford  did  my  so  id  unseal, 
London,  imperturbable. 
Saw  me  burn  in  her  lozvest  Hell. 
Released  at  last  from  woe  and  weal 
I  sink  in  the  dust  of  No  man's  Land! 


THE  RIVER  OF  REST 

To  lie  in  meadow  grasses, 

Earth  beneath  my  head, 
With  silken  winds  to  cover  me 

Is  a  sufficient  bed. 

Blue  darkness  is  my  canopy, 
Dim  trees  my  watchers  are, 

And  for  a  night-lamp  at  my  couch 
God  lights  a  special  star. 

To  hear  a  river  talking 
All  the  soft  night  through. 

Makes  all  my  griefs  orchestral 
And  God  seem  near  and  true. 


Ill 


112  THE  RIVER    OF   REST 

To  hear  beneath  the  grasses 
The  dead  with  quiet  breath 

Recount  the  roads  they  traversed. 
Makes  me  in  love  with  Death. 

For  kings  in  ivory  houses 
Beneath  a  golden  dome 

The  grave  seems  very  terrible, 
To  me — 'tis  coming  home. 

And  when  beneath  these  grasses 
I  lie  secure  from  change, 

If  God  should  kiss  me  on  the  lips 
I  should  not  think  it  strange. 


THE   ENDING   OF  ALL   DAYS 

This  is  the  doorway  where  we  parted, 

This  is  the  creaking  garden  gate; 
The  roses  climbed  here,  sanguine-hearted, 

The  thrushes  sang  here  soon  and  late. 
Here  we  stood  on  that  last  morning, 

Here  in  the  sunlit  garden  ways. 
And  the  roses  never  gave  me  warning 

It  was  the  ending  of  all  days. 

Here,    where   the   jasmine   hides   the   lattice, 

She  gave  a  last  sweet  look  to  keep; 

That  was  her  gracious  way,  and  that  is 

The  white  room  where  she  fell  asleep. 

113 


114  THE   ENDING   OF   ALL   DAYS 

I  spoke  to  her  here  of  quick  returning 
When  I  had  crowned  myself  with  bays, 

And  never  a  voice  cried  thro'  my  yearning, 
"This  is  the  ending  of  all  days." 

If  they  had  known, — the  sanguine  roses, 

If  I  had  known, — O  fond  blind  eyes ! 
But  who  hears  the  rosebud  when  it  closes? 

Who  in  Tomorrow's  truth  is  wise? 
The  roses  would  not  speak  to  grieve  her, 

The  birds  sang  happiest  roundelays, 
And  I — thus  lightly  did  I  leave  her, — 

It  was  the  ending  of  all  days. 

This  is  the  doorway  where  we  parted. 
This  is  the  creaking  garden  gate, 

And  a  cold  wind  wanders  broken-hearted 
Over  the  flowers,  and  cries  "Too  late." 


THE   ENDING    OF    ALL   DAYS  "5 

This  is  the  path  by  which  they  bore  her, 
Here,  where  the  single  sunbeam  strays; 

Was  it  with  roses  strewn  before  her? — ■ 
Unto  the  ending  of  all  days. 


AT   HER   GRAVE 

Sixteen  at  most  was  she 
Flower-fair,  slender; 

Never  were  hands  so  slight, 
Never  so  tender. 

I  saw  in  sunset  clouds 
Robes  to  beseem  her ; 

She,  with  a  clearer  eye, 
Saw  her  Redeemer. 

One  day  she  went  from  me ; 

Then  fell  the  Shadow, 
Mournful  the  sun  appeared. 

Dreary  the  meadow. 


ii6 


AT    HER    GRAVE  1 1? 

Next  day  the  sun  came  back, 

Dearer  and  clearer; 
Since  then  it  seems  to  me 

God  has  drawn  nearer. 


THE  ITALIAN  IN  AMERICA 

He  stood  beside  the  curving  track, 

And  watched  the  thundering  cars  rush  by; 

Then  to  his  task  he  bent  his  back, 
And  thought  a  little,  bitterly, 

Of  many  things  that  he  had  not, 

And  the  strange  ventures  of  his  lot. 

"I've  bread  enough  to  spare,"  he  said, 
"Why  should  my  heart  be  so  forlorn?" 

Too  well  he  knew.     He  bowed  his  head; 
"O  for  the  house  where  I  was  born, 

The  vineyards  and  the  fields  of  maize. 

The  olive  trees  that  knew  my  ways : 
ii8 


THE    ITALIAN    IN    AMERICA  "9 

"The  song  of  women  thro'  the  vines, 
The  jests  with  which  they  greeted  us, 

The  red  moon  netted  in  the  pines, 
The  bells  that  rang  the  Angelus, 

The    low-breathed    word,    more    sweet    than 
prayer. 

Of  her  who  waited  for  me  there. 

"O  for  the  roads  not  built  of  steel, 

The  skies  that  on  my  youth  looked  down, 

The  far-off  gold-crowned  Campanile, 
The  crumbling,  many-gated  town, 

The  poplared  pleasant  Lombard  plain 

Which  I  shall  never  see  again." 

He  stood  beside  the  curving  track 
And  said  these  tender  things;  but  I 


120  THE    ITALIAN    IN    AMERICA 

Saw  Time's  vast  curtain  lifted  back, 
And  all  the  centuries  rushing  by; 
Along  the  track  the  legions  came 
With  brazen  eagles  wrought  of  flame. 

For  so  they  mourned — the  sentinel 
Upon  the  tower  beside  the  Tweed, 

Those  armies  imperturbable 

That  served  great  Caesar  at  his  need; 

And  he,  of  Rome's  imperial  race, 

Looked  at  me  with  tired  Caesar's  face. 

He  stood  beside  the  road  he  made. 

As  they  long  since,  whose  flesh  is  grass, 

And  saw,  along  the  rock-hewn  grade 
The  Empire-bearing  chariots  pass; 

And  Caesar's  ghost,  when  night  fell  dim 

Approved  his  work,  and  smiled  on  him. 


SPRING  TOKENS 

How  slow  the  Spring  climbs  up  the  world 
To  tired  eyes,  half-despairing! 

Sweet  April  walks  with  shrouded  face, 
And  Winter's  garb  is  wearing. 

Fair  violets,  from  some  summer  place. 

They're  selling  in  the  city : 
But  still  the  north  wind  blows,  and  blows ; 

It  blows  and  has  no  pity. 

The  swallow  long  ago  had  come 

If  wishes  could  beguile  it, 
But  still  the  swallow  holds  aloof. 

He's  wiser  than  the  violet. 

121 


122  SPRING   TOKENS 

The  cautious  swallow  love?  us  not. 

He  fears  to  venture  near  us, 
The  violet  only  loves  enough 

To  die  that  it  may  cheer  us. 

The  north  winds  blow,  but  thro'  the  world 

A  pulsing  movement  quivers, 
As  underneath  dead  ice  one  hears 

The  flow  of  living  rivers. 

And  in  the  violet,  gentle  flower. 

Strong  summer's  meek  adorer. 
The  whole  wide  woodlands'  scent  is  stored, 

June's   fragrance   blown   before   her; — 

As  when  before  my  lady  comes, 
For  whom  my  love  is  waiting. 


SPRING   TOKENS  I23 

A  subtle  essence  fills  the  air 
Her  presence  intimating. 

By  these  sure  signs  I  know  today 

Tho'  all  is  bleak  and  frozen, 
The  Spring  is  near;  she  sends  for  pledge 

The  violet — her  first  cousin. 


THE  WHISPERING  WOOD 

I  FIND  within  the  whispering  wood 

No  sign  of  fairy,  pard,  or  elf; 
A  hoHer  mystery  moves  the  blood, 

I  hear  God  talking  to  Himself. 

Like  breath  that  flows  and   ebbs,   like   sighs 
Of  wordless  deep  intense  delight, 

I  hear  the  sacred  monodies 
God  utters  to  Himself  at  night. 

"O  happy,  happy  things  that  move, 

O  happy  birds  that  fly  or  nest. 

Contented  with  a  little  love 

And  thankful  for  a  little  rest! 
124 


THE    WHISPERING    WOOD  125 

"What  I  have  made  is  very  good, 

Good  every  tiniest  thing  that  walks !" 

Even  so  amid  the  whispering  wood 
Within  Himself  God  broods  and  talks. 


THE    PEOPLE'S    CAUSE 

O  People,  will  you  never  know  your  power, 

Nor  seize  the  earth,  your  just  inheritance? 
Lo,  Babylon  is  fallen,  dome  and  tower. 

And  broken  Egypt's  ancient  dominance : 
Tyre  broodeth,  widowed  by  her  sailless  sea, 

O'er  Nineveh  the  bittern  spreads  her  wings ; 
Prone,  in  the  halls  of  famous  revelry, 

Dust  lies  upon  the  faces  of  dead  Kings, 
The  paths  lie  open  for  your  sure  advance. 

Long  since  the  trumpet  hath  proclaimed  the 

hour. 

The  hour  foreseen,  that  ye  shall  wake  from 

sleep 

Upon  a  morning  when  the  world  shall  burn, 
126 


THE   people's    cause  127 

And  with  a  noise,  like  waters  of  the  deep, 
Unto  your  Zion  singing  shall  return. 

O  People,  must  the  tale  run  on  the  same, 

Thro'  all  the  generations,  soon  and  late. 
The  lamentations  of  a  fruitless  shame, 

The  broken  armies  bowed  to  meet  their  fate  ? 
Is  all  in  vain — the  flaming  barricade. 

The  Cross,  the  gallows,  the  red  guillotine, 
And   all   your  marred   redeemers,    each    one 
made 

A  sacrifice  for  thy  new  sloth  and  sin? 
When  will  ye  come,  no  more  disconsolate. 

With  banners  terrible,  and  feet  of  flame, 
Treading   the   wine-press    of    the   grapes    of 
wrath, 

In  purple  raiment,  traveling  in  your  might, 


128  THE    people's    CAUSE 

With  Him  Who  long  since  trod  the  self-same 
path, 
And  died  in  darkness  that  you  might  have 
light? 

O  People,  shall  these  lesser  Kings  of  clay 
Once  more  weld  cruel  chains  about  your 
feet? 
Shall  lords  of  Mammon  your  great  progress 
stay, 
Or  counsel  you  with  craft  to  vile  retreat? 
Great  Rome,  with  all  her  legions,   slew  you 
not, 
Proud  Paris  kissed  for  peace  your  brows 
blood-hued, 
You  were  not  crushed  by  Caesar's  chariot; 
With  Jesus  crucified,  in  life  renewed 


THE    people's    cause  129 

You  lived  again.    And  shall  you  fear  to  greet 
The  flaming  pennon  of  your  ultimate  day, 

Bought  with  a  little  gold  to  serve  the  lust 
Of  those  who  build  an  empire  on  your  pain? 

Once  more  the  Spirit  stirs  the  bones  of  dust, 
O  ye  dry  bones,  let  Him  not  call  in  vain. 


A  PRAYER 

Now  let  me  die!    This  one  full  exquisite  hour 
Hath  drained  the  heart  dry.     From  this  mo- 
ment's height 
Life's  path  runs  down  thro'  days  of  lessened 

light, 
Life's  night  commences,  fades  Hope's  perfect 

flower. 
On  Time's  consummate  Alp  secure  I  stand, 
As  one  high-throned  who  feels  the  quickened 

flow 
Of  air  where  eagles  wheel,  and  sees  below 
Great  cities  lie  like  glittering  heaps  of  sand. 

How  painful  to  descend  by  narrowing  ways 
130 


A   PRAYER  131 

To  narrower  life,  to  turn  reluctant  eyes 
Not  all  reluctant,  from  immense  still  skies, 
Grow  base,  decline,  and  rot  thro'  evil  days ! 
Ah  God',  of  all  my  prayers  but  one  I  keep, 
"Let  my  best  action  ring  the  bell  for  sleep !" 


THE  BUILDER 

With  weary  hands  we  carve  the  stones 

And  mortise  them  with  blood  and  tears, 
We  build  our  home  of  pride,  we  build 

Our  house  secure  for  many  years. 
But  that  which  lives  within  of  care. 

Of  want  or  woe,  we  do  not  guess; 
Alas,  will  no  man  tell  us  how 

To  build  the  House  of  Happiness? 

On  miry  roads,  with  bruised  sad  feet ; 

Toward  Golden  Cities  we  aspire, 

Cities  of  Gold,  whose  burnished  towers 

Beckon  afar  like  tongues  of  fire. 
132 


THE    BUILDER  IJ3 

Ah,  vain  the  quest !  Like  flames  that  fade 
Our  golden  cities  flash  and  cease, 

And  who  shall  show  us  where  is  found 
The  City  wherein  dwelleth  peace? 

O  foolish,  foolish  heart  of  man! 

The  little  child  with  eager  hand 
Builds  better  palaces  than  thou 

Of  summer  leaves  or  yellow  sand. 
For  Laughter  is  his  Architect, 

And  Joy  his  fair  familiar, 
And  Visions  are  his  visitors. 

And  God,  and  God's  white  evening  star. 

Oft  have  I  prayed  vain  prayer  and  false; 

Once  more  I  pray — no  more  beguiled 
By  foolish  pride  or  vain  desire — 

God,  make  me  as  a  little  child. 


HEAVEN 

If  one  should  find, 
After  long  wandering  in  ways  unkind 
Thro'  a  great  wood, 

Weighed  down  with  darkness  and  with  soli- 
tude, 

A  fresher  wind, 

A  sudden  gleam  of  waters  and  green  sward, 
A  path  should  find, 

A  golden  gap  slashed  by  the   sun's   strong 
sword. 

And,  opening  up, 

All  the  bright  country,  like  a  brimming  cup 
134 


HEAVEN  135 

A-foam  with  bloom, 

And  sweet  with   Spring's  dear  promise  and 
perfume : 

Would  he  not  say, 

"I  have  come  unaware  this  happy  day 

On  Paradise: 

No  longer  will  I  wander  on,  unwise, 

But  here  will  rest, 

Nor  further  go  upon  a  bootless  quest !" 
So  I  expect. 

Some  day  when  all  life's  paths  are  most  per- 
plex't, 

To  come  at  even 

Upon  the  pleasant  quiet  land  of  Heaven, 

And  thank  the  road 

That  with  its  many  windings  led  to  God. 


THE  CHILD  ASLEEP 

Be  careful  how  you  wake  the  child,  for  you 
can  never  tell 
Where  the  soul  is  traveling  when  the  eyes 
are  shut : 
There  are  a  hundred  kingdoms  quite  invisible, 
Elfland  and  faeryland,  Heaven  and  Lilliput, 
And  where  the  soul  is  traveling  you  can  never 
tell. 

Be  careful  how  you  wake  the  child,  for  you 

will  never  know 

What  Powers  are  waiting  for  the  soul  upon 

Sleep's  other  side: 
136 


THE    CHILD    ASLEEP  137 

There  are  fairies  and  angels,  like  roses  in  a 

row, 
And  knights  on  shining  horses  all  ready  for 

a  ride, 
And  which  of  them  may  call  your  child  you 

will  never  know. 

Be  careful  how  you  wake  the  child,  for  if  your 
touch  is  rough 
The  shaken  door  of  life  may  swing  and  drop 
its  silent  latch : 

For  children   love  their  sleep  so   they  never 
have  enough, 
And  souls  that  wander  in  the  dark  are  dif- 
ficult to  catch. 

And  they   may  wander  quite   away    if   your 
touch  is  rough. 


138  THE    CHILD   ASLEEP 

Be  careful  how  you  wake  the  child,  for  you 
can  never  know 
How  delicate  the  life-thread  that  holds  the 
soul  to  earth : 

In  sleep-land  there  are  angels,  and  all  the  flow- 
ers that  blow, 
And  such  immortal  meadows,  and  such  de- 
lightful mirth, 

Your  child  may  want  to  stay  there — ^you  can 
never  know! 


i 


NOBODY    KNOWS 

How  the  wind  blows 

Nobody  knows. 
Thro'  the  white  Arctic  spaces 
And  warm  summer  places. 

It  blows,  and  it  blows; 
But  where  the  wind  goes 

Nobody  knows. 

How  a  love  goes 

Nobody  knows. 
There's  a  word  that  one  misses, 
An  end  to  fond  kisses. 

And  lovers  are  foes : 


139 


140  NOBODY    KNOWS 

But   where   the   love   goes 
Nobody  knows. 


Where  the  dead  go 


No  one  may  know. 
There's  a  grave  mid  the  grasses 
Where  nobody  passes, 

And  twihghts  are  slow; 


But  where  the  dead  go 


No  one  may  know. 


THE  LAUGHING  MAID 

I  WOULD  not  walk  with  sorrow 

If  I  were  you; 
'Tis  hard  enough  to  borrow 
Day's  courage  to  be  true; 
Why  stint  your  gracious  laughter 
For  fear  of  what  comes  after, 
When  suns  have  scorched  youth's  dew? 
I  would  not  walk  with  sorrow 

If  I  were  you. 

I  would  be  blithe  as  birds  are 

If  I  were  you, 

I  would  be  glad  as  words  are 

When  hopeful  love  is  new. 

You  are  the  Dawn's  own  daughter, 

141 


142  THE   LAUGHING   MAID 

Why  seek  you  Grief's  wan  water 
That  moans  the  long  night  through? 
I  would  be  blithe  as  birds  are, 
If  I  were  you. 

O  not  for  tears  and  sadness 

God  fashioned  you! 
Your  mouth  He  kissed  for  gladness, 
Such  joy  in  you  He  knew. 
He  gave  your  face  the  sweetness 
Of  flowers  in  their  completeness, 
Your  lips  the  rose's  hue. 
He  never  meant  that  sadness 

Should  be  for  you. 

The  loads  of  life  grow  lighter 

Because  of  you; 
The  rooms  of  life  grow  brighter 


THE   LAUGHING    MAID  143 

When  you  pass  gaily  through. 
For  some  Life  brings  harsh  duty; 
Life  asks  of  you  but  beauty 
In  all  the  things  you  do; 
And  Duty's  yoke  grows  lighter 
Because  of  you. 

I  would  not  talk  with  sorrow 

If  I  were  you. 
New  fragrance   I  would  borrow 
From  mornings  ever  new. 
To  men  God  gives  lamenting; 
He  gives,  in  sweet  relenting, 
His  mirth  unto  a  few. 
His  mirth,  and  not  His  sorrow, 

He  gave  to  you. 


SHE  PASSED  AT  DAWN 

She  passed  at  dawn;  the  summer  breeze 

Began  the  leaves  to  stir; 
She  passed  like  wind  among  the  trees 

And  took  the  Dawn  with  her. 

A  gust  of  freshest  fragrances 
Did  through  the  tree-tops  beat; 

It  seemed  the  rustle  of  the  dress 
Round  her  departing  feet. 

A  bird  sang  thrice,  and  yet  again 

In  one  long  note  sang  he; 

It  was  the  very  moment  when  ' 

Her  dear  life  ceased  to  be. 
144 


-     SHE   PASSED   AT    DAWN  MS 

Such  sweet  composure  marked  her  end, 

So  calm  her  words  did  fall, 
It  seemed  she  fancied  Death  a  friend, 

And  dying  natural. 

She  passed  so  easily,  we  three 

Who  knelt  beside  her  bed 
For  many  minutes  earnestly 

Prayed  after  she  was  dead. 

She  passed  at  Dawn,  fit  hour  for  one 
Whose  years  had  all  been  bright! 

She  passed ;  she  took  with  her  the  Sun 
And  left  with  us  the  Night. 


THE  WISE  MAN'S  WISH 

A  LITTLE  work  with  time  to  play, 
So  let  me  live  from  day  to  day. 
Not  too  much  burdened  lest  I  give 
To  work  the  strength  I  need  to  live, 
Nor  too  much  at  my  ease,  lest  I 
Should  lose  my  soul's  integrity; 
With  mind  serene,  with  spirit  gay, 
So  let  me  live  from  day  to  day. 

A  little  home,  far  from  life's  fray 

Where  I  may  greet  each  punctual  day; 

A  room  for  books,  a  room  for  sleep, 

A  fire  of  logs  when  snows  are  deep; 
146 


THE    WISE    MAN  S    WISH  147 

Each  window   bright   with   the   surprise 
Of  wide  uninterrupted  skies, 
That  glow  and  fade  from  rose  to  gray ; 
— There  would  I  live  from  day  to  day. 

A  little  wealth,  but  more  I  pray 
Of  Love  that  shall  enrich  each  day; 
Kind  eyes  that  gleam  to  welcome  me 
With  faith  and  cheerful  constancy; 
Then,  when  all  earthly  tasks  are  done. 
An  old  age  sitting  in  the  sun; 
A  quiet  grave  when  ends  the  way. 
Where  I  may  wait  God's  better  day. 


THE   SONGS   OF  YOUTH 

When  I  have  crossed  the  untumultuous  sea, 
And  feel  beneath  my  tired  feet  the  shore. 

The  earhest  greeting  that  will  come  to  me. 
Will  not  be  from  the  friends  I  knew  before; 

No  human  hands  with  mine  will  mate. 

Another  welcome  I  anticipate, 

When  I  have  crossed  the  sea. 

The  songs  I  did  not  sing  will  meet  me  there, 
The  little  flame-flowered  and  gentle  things 

That  fled  my  heart  perverse  and  left  it  bare; 
The  low-pitched  songs  the  quiet  poet  sings, 

Who  asks  not  for  applause,  but  sings  apart. 

Content  with  praises  from  one  trustful  heart, 

These  songs  shall  meet  me  there. 
148 


THE    SONGS    OF    YOUTH  149 

When  I  have  crossed  the  untumultuous  sea, 
Before  I  seek  for  any  human  smile, 

I  shall  desire,  from  pride  freed  utterly, 
To  go  apart,  and  weep  a  little  while. 

While  I  recapture,  tender  strain  by  strain. 

The  songs  of  my  lost  youth  and  all  their  pain. 

When  I  have  crossed  the  sea. 


EARTH-LOVE 

The  books  I  love  stand  row  on  row, 
They  greet  me,  each  with  friendly  face; 

If  I  must  leave  them,  I  would  know 

What  better  friends  shall  take  their  place. 

My  pictures  too;  Madonna's  eyes 

That  long  have  watched  my  toiling  pen, 

Great  Turner's   painted   symphonies, 
A  Cuyp,  with  cattle  on  the  fen —  ~ 

A  Corot,  veiled  in  silver  mist. 

Pearl-dripping  trees  by  waters  wan ; 
150 


EARTH -LOVE  T51 

And  one  of  Venice,   siimmer-kiss't, 
By  some  unknown   Italian. 

What  gain  to  me  were  streets  of  gold 

That  decorate  an  alien  star? 
Strange  glories  leave  my  spirit  cold, 

I  cling  to  the  familiar. 

Though  God  should  crush  a  thousand  suns 
To  paint  His  crystal  domes  and  seas. 

More  sweet  old  Corot's  stream  that  runs 
— Wan  waters  by  pearl-dripping  trees. 

More  sweet  than  that  Jerusalem, 

Al!  new  and  fine,  which  John  hath  drawn, 
Fair  Venice,  flashing  like  a  gem 

Upon  the  turquoise  breast  of  dawn. 


152  EARTH-LOVE 

Let  pallid  saints  flee  from  life's  task, 

And  shut  their  hearts  to  earth-born  mirth; 

Death  is  no  friend  of  mine.  I  ask 
No  better  life  than  life  on  earth. 


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